


The Infamous Granger Nativity Story

by valancyjane74



Series: Twenty-Five Years Before (viginti quinque annorum ante) [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Conception backstory, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Hermione's parents, Humor, Mr & Mrs Granger - Freeform, Original Character(s), Romance, Romantic mini-break, Sex in a Car, The Grangers - Freeform, Young Love, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26175865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valancyjane74/pseuds/valancyjane74
Summary: This is the backstory of Hermione Granger's conception, which is alluded to by her father Bernard Granger, in Chapter 36 of 'Nusquam aliud est vertere'.Bernard takes great joy in relating the tale to all and sundry, much to the embarrassment of his wife and daughter.Chapter 2 will focus on how the young couple react to learning of the unplanned pregnancy.
Relationships: Bernard Granger/Jane Stirling
Series: Twenty-Five Years Before (viginti quinque annorum ante) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934278
Comments: 12
Kudos: 16





	The Infamous Granger Nativity Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Recoveringjaddict5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Recoveringjaddict5/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Nusquam aliud est vertere (Nowhere else to turn)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23994118) by [valancyjane74](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valancyjane74/pseuds/valancyjane74). 



> This story is dedicated to my amazing friend @Recoveringjaddict5.  
> Thank you so much for all your selfless inspiration, support, friendship, generosity, education, and shared braincell.  
> You are truly and utterly wonderful, and I am so blessed to know you, and to count you my dear friend.  
> I hope you like this little side project; it's all your fault, and I love you for it.  
> You're the best!!!  
> 💗💜💙💚💛🧡💛💚💙💜💗

__

_Sunday 10 December 1978: PM_

Peering through the gathering gloom of a Scottish winter’s eve, Bernard Granger downshifts to third as he takes another tight corner on the narrow country road. He risks an affectionate, lingering squeeze of his girlfriend’s shapely knee.

“Won’t be long now, sugarpuss – we’re making good time.”

Fla-flump. Fla-flump fla-flump fla-flump fla-flump. _Oh, shit._

“Barney? What’s wrong with the car?” Jane turns to him, alarm wreathed across her sweet young face as he grimaces and babies the Cortina to the side of the road. The fla-flumping finally stops as Barney parks as close to the spreading branches of the wych elm tree as he dares. At least the verge is wide enough that they needn’t worry about the danger of being clipped by another vehicle.

“I think the passenger side rear tyre is flat; don’t worry, it won’t take long to change it for the spare,” Bernard assures his brunette sweetheart. “Hold tight, I’ll be back in a jiffy.” He slides out of the driver’s seat and takes stock of their surroundings. Archetypal Scottish countryside: hilly, and surprisingly remote, considering how relatively close they are to Edinburgh proper. Striding to the back of his cherished little red ’72 Ford Cortina, it only takes a quick glance at the back tyre to confirm his mechanical diagnosis. Flat as a tack.

He inserts the key in the boot and drags out the half-open bag he’d shoved in there this morning, not registering the tiny thud of a fallen item as he lifts the cover on the spare tyre well.

 _Oh, SHIT_. Aghast, Bernard doesn’t think to censor his horrified gasp at the sight before him.

“Barney? Do you need some help back there? I’m adept at changing a tyre, you know,” Jane Stirling presses, turning in her seat to lean out the open window as he straightens, letting the cover drop from his nerveless fingers.

“Yes – yes, I know,” Barney stutters. “Um, Jane… the spare tyre is flat, too.”

A lengthy pause. “You didn’t check the spare, before you left this morning to pick me up?” Jane’s customary composure has not yet cracked.

“No. I did not. I may have overslept a little, and I was rather excited, you see– “

“And how far would you estimate we are from our destination, Bernard?” Jane’s clear voice is developing more husk. Sexy as hell, but also a sure indicator that her temper is rising.

“About ten miles?” _Don’t squeak, you fool. You sound like a ruddy Muppet._

“Ten miles. And what is the average early December low temperature in greater Edinburgh, Bernard William Granger? Take a guess.” Even through the deepening murk, Jane’s fierce glare is obvious.

“Erm… five degrees? Jane, listen, I have a plan– “

“It’s two degrees Celsius, Bernard. Two. Degrees. Celsius. Luckily for us, Edinburgh is experiencing a milder cyclonic weather pattern, so it shouldn’t drop below four degrees tonight. Did you check the weather conditions for our trip this morning?” Jane clips out.

“I – I looked out the window,” Bernard cringes as he awaits his well-deserved reprimand.

“You… looked out the window. So your preparations for our romantic mini-break to Scotland were – and do feel free to jump in, if I happen to leave out anything, Bernard – oversleeping, peering out at the _London_ weather, and neglecting to ensure your vehicle was wholly roadworthy and possessed of a working spare tyre?”. Jane ticks off his idiocies on her slim fingers before she clenches her hand into a fist.

“But I packed supplies!” Bernard grabs at the faded black duffel bag and holds it aloft in relieved triumph. “Three blankets, two bottles of red wine, and a dozen chocolate bars – we’re all set!”.

He ignores Jane’s exasperated growl as he picks up his booty and slams shut the boot, placing the bag onto the back bench seat before sliding back behind the wheel. “Wind up your window, sugarpuss – it’s getting brisk out there.”

She complies, her tawny curls shaking as she cranks the handle round and round until the window seals.

“Jane, I’m sorry,” Bernard bangs his long legs against the gear stick as he attempts to turn sideways to look into his angry girlfriend’s blazing hazel eyes. “Do you want me to walk to the nearest house and ring for a tow truck? I don’t want to leave you here alone, though.”

Some of Jane’s aggravation dissipates as she exhales heavily, catching his big, chilled paws in her dainty hands. She rubs them together to speed up the warming process. “Barney, we’ll be OK here, overnight. But please – a little planning goes a long way, honey. You’re a smart man – “

“Never as smart as you, Jane, I love and respect your superior intelligence, I hope you know that – “

“ – but sometimes, your wild enthusiasm gets in the way of your common sense,” Jane continues, unfazed by his earnest interruption. “Let’s just make the best of it, shall we?”. She gifts him with one of her slow, glorious smiles, bringing his hands up to her mouth as she kisses the base of each thumb.

Bernard sends out a heartfelt prayer of gratitude to the universe, amazed anew that he has somehow managed to capture and retain the interest of this brilliant, sweet, witty, gorgeous young woman. _Me_. _Gangly, clumsy, quirky and prone-to-trouble (though well-intentioned) ole Barney_. He carefully lays his left hand against Jane’s silky cheek, as his heartrate gallops and his breathing quickens.

It is always like this; all it takes is a sideways glance, a tiny brush of her pinkie finger against his arm, the faint drift of her jasmine perfume, the last deep note of her throaty, uninhibited laugh across the quadrangle… and he’s toast. Blind and deaf to anything but the glory of Jane.

He thinks of the first time he saw her, striding purposefully across campus, rugged up so comprehensively against the savage winter chill that all he’d really seen were her iridescent, intelligent hazel eyes and the few coppery ringlets that had dared to escape the confines of her hideous hand-made brown beanie. Its precariously-attached pom-pom bobble had waggled with every fast, confident step she’d taken in the direction of the library.

Bernard had followed her immediately, not realizing he’d left the noisy warmth of the small university cafeteria without any of his belongings until one of his friends had called his name and draped his battered satchel over his arm as he’d hurried outside. He’d tracked the mystery woman to one of the library’s communal study areas. Planting his feet at the end of the rectangular table, he’d watched spellbound as she’d peeled off her myriad layers of winter clothing, leaving only her beige corduroy slacks, chunky maroon woollen jumper, and the silly, misshapen knitted hat.

 _Her_ , his heart had shouted, as his dazzled whiskey-brown eyes had taken in her strong, willowy body, smooth olive complexion, beautiful face and madcap chestnut curls. _I want **her**_.

“Are you going to stand there staring at me all day, or are you ready to introduce yourself?” her amused voice had sounded like a song he could merrily listen to on repeat for the rest of his life.

Never being one to miss a plum opportunity, Bernard had surprised both of them with his bollocksy response. Offering the young brunette goddess his large, chapped hand, he’d boldly announced, “Hello: my name is Bernard Granger, I’m studying to be a dentist, I think your beanie is the most grotesque example of headwear I’ve ever seen, and I’m going to marry you one day.”

His future bride had flung back her head and laughed loud enough to earn her a cross “Shush!” from the nearby crotchety librarian; the rebuke hadn’t curtailed her hearty chortle in the slightest.

“This beanie was the very first project I ever knitted, I’ll have you know,” she’d slipped her capable hand into his and given it a firm shake. Both their eyes had widened at the tingle, as she’d added, “I’m Jane Stirling, I’m studying to be a dentist – jinx! – your Van Dyke beard is absolutely ridiculous, and I’m going to call you ‘Barney’.”

“What about our wedding?” Bernard had urged. He’d been physically unable to let go of her hand, though their handshake had been well and truly concluded, by that stage.

“Oh, you’re going to have to work much harder than this to secure that lofty goal,” Jane Stirling had smiled, rubbing her thumb across the inside of his wrist. The small caress had literally weakened his knees; it had been all he could do not to fall in her lap.

“Care to study with me, Barney?” and he’d nodded instantly, wondering if his adoration was written all over his face, but not caring one whit if it were.

Bernard looks at Jane now with the same expression on his mug. His devotion to this incredible woman has intensified with each passing day; he still can’t quite believe that she is his girlfriend, his best friend… his lover.

The evening has turned to full night, and the temperature is falling rapidly. Jane is shivering, despite her warm coat (and that unsightly mud-brown beanie covering her head).

“Can I interest you in joining me in the back seat for some questionable cheap red wine and a selection of Cadbury and Nestlé’s finest, sugarpuss?” Bernard kisses Jane softly, feeling her smile against his lips. “I’ll keep you warm, Jane,” he promises. “But we might have to sleep skin-to-skin, later: I won’t have you suffering hypothermia because of my stupidity.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” Jane teases. “Alright, honey – let’s go.”

They move quickly to the rear bench seat, Bernard pulling out his three pure wool pastel blankets with their varying pink, blue, and orange stripes. He arranges the bedding snugly around them, before he fans out the chocolate bars onto Jane’s lap.

“Take your pick while I prepare our plonk; I’m afraid we’ll have to share the goblet, though.” Bernard holds up the single white enamel camping mug, before producing a corkscrew and wrangling open the first bottle of wine. “It’s… shiraz?” he squints at the torn label before he pours a generous measure into the prosaic receptacle.

Offering the filled mug to Jane, Bernard selects a Bounty, making short work of ripping open the packet before chomping down the coconut/milk chocolate combination with gusto. He cuddles Jane into his broad shoulder as she sips the red wine, handing it back to him to choose an Aero bar.

Passing the mug back and forth, they halve the pile of chocolate treats as Bernard tops up the vino and enjoys the light buzz created by alcohol, refined sugars and fats, and the joy of being wrapped around his lovely girl.

“I feel warmer now, Barney – thank you,” Jane tips up her head and points to her puckered mouth. “Wanna snog? I’ve missed your sexy lips on mine this past week, honey,” her words are only a tad slurred, her eyes bright and mischievous as she makes exaggerated kissy noises and attempts to scrabble beneath the blankets to reach Bernard’s nethers.

“Sugarpuss, are you drunk? I’ll have to decline your generous offer, if you are,” Barney easily encircles Jane’s grabby hands at her slender wrists as she pouts.

“I certainly am not, Bernard William Granger! Your wine is cheap, but I am all class,” Jane sniffs haughtily. Her lofty sentiment is undermined when a little burp floats from her parted lips.

She bursts into giggles as Bernard dryly remarks, “Classy, eh?”. He releases her hands to tuck a couple of springy mahogany strands back behind her pixyish ears. “You’re the classiest, sexiest woman on Planet Earth, and I have been dying to kiss you silly since I picked you up this morning, Jane Elizabeth Stirling.” He proceeds to thoroughly explore the contours and depths of her full mouth, delighting in the singular sensation of her tongue dancing with his own.

Jane tastes like shiraz, chocolate, and the peanuts found in the Picnic bars that she loves but Bernard avoids like the plague. She briefly halts their passionate smooch to enquire, “But what about the women on the rest of the planets in our solar system, Barney? What if they’re sexier and classier than me?”.

Her eyes glimmer faintly in the darkened car as he solemnly answers, “Jane, I don’t have to snog a green Martian to know she wouldn’t hold a candle to you. But I might need some more of your kisses, for the sake of comparison and scientific study, you understand.”

“Oh, well – you know I wholeheartedly support a properly-applied research method,” Jane murmurs, drawing down his head to meet hers again.

Their gentle reciprocal touches swiftly escalate into heavier petting; Bernard snatches the stupid hat off Jane’s head and flings it into the footwell as Jane pulls his thick woollen sweater and navy turtleneck loose from his bell-bottomed jeans. She brushes her hands across the light sprinkling of light auburn hair on his torso, her fingertips pinching naughtily at his nipples as he groans with pleasure.

“Jane, honey? Would you be amenable to testing out that skin-to-skin theory now?” Bernard petitions, hauling her onto his upper thighs to suck open-mouthed kisses along her neck. His fingers undo the big buttons of her long red coat, but fumble when he encounters the smaller fastenings on her wide-collared rust orange shirt.

“Here – let me – and yes, let’s keep each other warm the old-fashioned way,” Jane breathes, nimbly unbuttoning her shirt as Bernard yanks his upper clothing off his head and tosses it aside. They help each other with the rest of their apparel; Jane’s long blue skirt presents a challenge when neither can initially discover the start of the zipper, but it is eventually located and dealt with.

“I’ll let you keep on your socks if you allow me to keep mine,” Jane offers, as Bernard flicks loose her bra with a practised twist.

“Deal.” He lightly taps the sides of her heart-shaped bum to encourage her to lift her legs and better facilitate his removal of her knickers. They are both down to their birthday suits now, excluding the sock loophole.

Bernard hesitates; he tops six feet and three inches, and the car is five feet, four inches wide. _Things are about to get tricky._

Jane must be having the same thought, as she queries, “Barney? How are we going to do this?”

“Like hedgehogs, Jane… very carefully. Lie down – mind your head, beautiful girl – and I’ll rest my right leg in the footwell, and kneel my left on the very end of the seat– “

“Ow! The bloody seatbelt just got me,” Jane grumbles, arching up to push it clear. “That’s better – quick, please pull that blanket back over us, Barney… excellent.”

After a bit of trial and error, they find the right position. Bernard dips his head down, unerringly locating Jane’s glorious breasts with his mouth; he delicately licks each of her dark pink nipples in turn, as she moans and wriggles beneath him.

“Oh, Barney – that feels so good, please don’t stop,” she urges, threading her hands through his shaggy dark reddish-blonde hair. He suckles harder, filling his mouth with her soft flesh as Jane whimpers. Giving in to primal impulse, Bernard moves his mouth all around her areolae, marking hickeys into her soft skin before duplicating the action on her other breast. He is dizzy with erotic pleasure, rejoicing in the sheer wonder of physically expressing his devotedness to the woman caged between his sinewy arms.

“Jane? Touch yourself, sugarpuss – stroke that sweet pussy, I want to lick your essence off your fingers before I slide my cock deep inside you,” Bernard commands. He wishes that he’d thought to include a small lantern with his supplies; he misses seeing Jane’s reactions to his words and caresses. The darkness does gift an extra dimension to the sounds they are creating, as Jane’s energetic moans and slick fingers fill in the missing images perfectly. She brings her wet fingers to his mouth, as requested; Bernard hungrily sucks each digit clean, growling as the earthy taste of her core hardens his swollen member even more.

“Barney? I’m ready – but what about protection?” Jane reminds him.

“Oh, right! Hang on, they’re in the bag – “ Bernard shifts his weight to his left arm as he gropes at the open duffel bag below Jane’s head for interminable moments. His hand finds the other bottle of wine, and a couple of bottles of water, and… nothing. He runs his seeking fingers across the floor of both footwells, discovering only empty candy wrappers and the wine and mug they’d used earlier.

 _No. Oh, no_. ‘Jane? The Frenchies – they’re not here. I must have forgotten them – why am I like this?!? I could have sworn I put the box in there this morning!”. Bernard is enraged by his forgetfulness. “I’m sorry – but it doesn’t matter, I’ll take care of you with my mouth and my hands, sugarpuss.” He begins to shift back onto his heel, but Jane clamps her hands around his hips to keep him in place above her.

“Barney, I want – I need – to feel you inside me. Do you think you can pull out in time? I started taking the Pill last week… I mean, the doctor said to wait a month to be sure, but I think we’ll be alright,” Jane explains.

“Are you sure, dear heart? I am fine with doing this the other ways,” Bernard baulks at the risks involved.

“Yes – as long as you’re sure you’ll withdraw in time, Barney.” Jane squirms impatiently. “Honey – please.”

Bernard kisses her fervently, breaking away only to urge Jane to guide his throbbing cock into her wet, warm pussy. He hisses as his tip breaches her entrance, holding still until her hips slide down to pull him in deeper. Ecstasy floods his body as he trembles above her, slowly pushing his long girth in to the hilt. Jane squeezes around him experimentally, chuckling as he yelps in pure delight and whacks his head against the roof of the small car.

The knock is forgotten as Jane rounds her hips upward and meets him stroke for slow stroke. Her hands smooth up and down his supple back as he mumbles a stream of (mostly incoherent) words detailing how right this is, how splendid she feels, how blessed he is to share this moment with her. Jane coos her own enjoyment, her little grunts and moans satisfying his overriding need to ensure she is enjoying the experience just as much as he.

They share an unhurried climb to orgasm, Bernard ignoring Jane’s exhortations to move faster… though he does increase the power of his thrusts as he feels her tight sheath beginning to constrict around his dick. “That’s it, Jane – oh god, you are so sexy, so perfect– please, keep rubbing your clitoris, honey,“ he grits his teeth, determined to stave off the moment he must withdraw for as long as possible. He feels her fingertips stroking up and down, pleasurably bumping into the base of his tunnelling cock as she works herself closer to peak. The sound of their sensitive flesh coming together echoes sensually in their steamy confines.

“Barney, Barney, I’m coming, oh, Barney…” Jane wails, gripping his forearms for support, bucking off the vinyl bench seat as she reaches her apex. Bernard groans as she keeps convulsing, desperate to keep his promise.

“Jane, I have to pull out – Jane, Jane, I love you, I love you so!” he shouts, throwing himself backward against the door as he disengages from her sleek, writhing body and spills his release onto her belly and pudenda.

“Barney, I love you too, I love you so much,” Jane gasps, pushing his sweaty locks off his damp forehead he shakes above her. She wiggles to the edge of the seat. “Come, lie down beside me – well, curl up, I suppose,” she amends, as he collapses in an awkward heap.

“I think I withdrew in time, Jane,” Bernard can barely form the words, utterly spent from their amazing carnal congress.

She cuddles his head to her chest, tenderly tracing the outline of his features as she whispers, “I think we’ll be fine, Barney.”

“I love you, Jane Elizabeth Stirling.” Barney kisses her soft palm as she brushes it across his panting mouth.

“I love you, Bernard William Granger.” Jane sighs contentedly.

Bernard allows himself one small, secret smile as he nestles his hot cheek against Jane’s pillowy breast.

_I guess forgetting to check the spare tyre wasn’t such a disaster, after all._

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Harry Potter world, which is trademarked by J. K. Rowling. I do not claim any ownership over those characters or the world of Harry Potter. This story is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of J.K. Rowling's story canon. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official storyline. I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story.


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